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. Violent winds blew, lifted huge trees from the
ground, hurled them about like newly planted saplings.
Those trees that held fast against the wind fell victim to the
savage lightning. Michael, daring to leave the chapel,
ventured back into his room, stared out the window.
Fires lit the darkness, trees consumed by flames. Grass
fires scorched the land. Nikol, shivering, came to stand by
his side. "The gods have forsaken us," she whispered.
"No," said Michael, taking her in his arms. "It is we
who have forsaken them."
They returned to the chapel. The wind blew harder. The
voices in it were horrible, conjuring up visions of dragons,
screaming over their kill. It buffeted the castle walls, trying
to beat them down. The earth began to shudder, as if the
very ground was appalled at the horrors it was witnessing.
The first quakes hit. The castle rocked and shivered. The
two crouched before the altar, unable to move, unable to
speak or even pray. Beyond the chapel, they could hear
crashes, shattering cracks.
Michael knew they were doomed. The walls must
collapse, the ceiling cave in. He held fast to Nikol's hands
and began to describe, in a feverish voice, the beautiful
bridge of starlight he'd seen before, the wondrous worlds
where they soon would find peace and freedom from this
terror.
Then it was over.
The tremors ceased. The storm abated, clouds blown
away as if by a mournful sigh. All was quiet. They were not
dead.
"We're safe, beloved!" Michael cried, not thinking of
what he was saying
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